


Untitled

by Minxzie



Series: Un-series [3]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxzie/pseuds/Minxzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miroku Takeuchi is a famous novelist who's never had trouble naming his work. The twists and turns in life are often the best story, and prove once again that life is forever Untitled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This is the place?" Miroku asked himself as he stepped out from his car and walked up to the building with the sign that read Fox Fire Books. It was a little hole in the wall bookstore, where he'd expected a larger, more imposing chain store. Never once had he been to such a shabby looking place for a book signing. His people usually only set them up in very popular, large stores.

Miroku Takeuchi wrote romance novels. Not just any romance novels, the kind that they don't allow in high school libraries. His ex-wife Shima used to call them 'bodice rippers', while his high school acquaintances liked to dub them 'heaving bosom chap books'. He had too big a following for the public to call them anything but 'art'.

He shrugged, pushed the door open and was momentarily taken aback. What had seemed to be a small and shabby shop was in fact quite large and impressive on the inside, even by his standards. He pursed his lips slightly.

"Foxfire indeed," he muttered, glancing around. The aura of a fox youkai clung to the walls of the entire building making it a lot larger on the inside than on the outside. The transparent blue wisps were invisible to most, but not to him. The blood of monks ran through his veins, making him extra sensitive to the presence of demons, and their powers. These auras, or youki, were like fingerprints. Seeing as he was descended from not just any monk, but the legendary monk Miatsu, he could also detect the auras of humans, or reiki, if he so chose. It was a little more difficult, but nowhere near impossible. Reiki weren't as vivid as youki.

He could also block this ability if he so chose, which was a blessing because it gave him headaches sometimes.

These auras had colour and the hue and brightness of the colour varied by the power and rank of the demon and its ancestors. The brighter and more vivid, the more power, the deeper the shade, the lower the rank of power. Judging by the ultramarine hue of this youki, the kitsune in question was likely adolescent. Probably about one hundred to six hundred fifty years old.

"Mr. Takeuchi, I presume?" The voice was soft and came from behind him. He turned to face the thin, four-tailed fox demon. This youkai was the source of the ultramarine youki. It swirled around the boy who looked about sixteen to eighteen years old, many times before sliding down his tails and spreading across the room. For his age, the demon was rather strong.

"That's me," Miroku smiled and reached his hand out. The kitsune shook it enthusiastically.

"Great! I'm Shippo, the owner of Fox Fire. We won't actually be opening for about ten minutes, so I could show you around if you'd like."

"Lead on" Miroku agreed. Shippo grinned.

"Great, so follow me!" The kitsune spent the next ten minutes weaving through the bookshelves, giving what Miroku assumed to be the grand tour. He has to admit it was impressive. There were three main rooms of Fox Fire Books. Each was large and handsomely furnished.

Room one was the room with three cash registers, candy shelves, new releases and last month’s best seller. It didn't surprise him that the book on the best seller rack was his most recent book 'Shirtless in Seattle'. It was the reason he was here.

When they moved to the second room, the first thing he noticed was the rows of couches along two of the walls. There were coffee machines, pop machines and snack vending machines. Smooth jazz music played softly from CD players on tables at each end of each row of couches. He could see they were rigged with fox traps, to deter thieves. It was more a lounge than part of a bookstore.

They continued onto the next room which was enormous, was jam packed with shelf upon shelf of books; new titles, old titles, used books, new books, every genre was represented. Some more than others, but not for lack of trying. Some even appeared to be hand-written. It was the biggest collection he'd seen in a long while.

"This last room," the russet haired youkai said, a hint of mystery in his voice. "Requires special permission to enter, but since you obviously have some control over reiki..."

"How did you know?" Miroku questioned. Shippo grinned.

"Anyone who can walk in here and not bat an eye at the size of the place, or these," he wiggled his tails playfully, "has to know what's what. Or at least have an inkling."

The door to the room in question was, to him, very obviously cloaked in fox magic. He assumed, that to the eyes of any other human it would appear to be just another section of bare wall. Shippo put a hand on the door, mumbling words that he couldn't hear, and turned the handle. The moment the door opened Miroku's mind was assaulted by an overwhelming mix of powers, both human and demon. It was so strong that his stomach did a flip, and his head started to ache. Then his eyes focused and his jaw dropped a bit.

This room had a lot fewer shelves and was about half the size of the last, but each book was cloaked in either strong yellow reiki or assorted youki.

"What is this?" he wondered out loud, mystified.

"They're books handwritten by demons, half demons, and reiki using humans like yourself. More advanced than you are at this point, but still you have to begin somewhere."

"So, you're saying that these books are incantations and what-not?"

"Some of them are. Not all. They're teachings in general. How to control, develop and hone skills in youki or reiki mastery. Some are just history. They can only be read by those with spiritual powers, demonic powers, or a strong connection to either or. I've only let one human have access to this room in the last fifty years, and she has no control over reiki. She can feel youki and sense them to a degree, because she's had a lot of immersion in demon culture and company. I don't suspect she can or will ever master this skill, because it isn't in her blood."

Miroku paused and turned away from the captivating glow around the shelves Shippo's eyes were glued on him. He felt as if he were being sized up and squared his shoulders slightly.

"Why have you shown me?" he asked.

"It is in your blood. I have a source, who told me of your strong spiritual ancestry. If you choose to make use of this room, which I do offer to you, you may find some important information on your own background. Now come, the doors will be opening shortly, and your fans will be anxious."

Miroku turned his body so that he could no longer see the books, and suddenly had the weirdest feeling he was being watched. He looked back over his shoulder to see no-one there. He shook his head and followed the kitsune through the door.

They backtracked through the rest of the rooms to the first, where a table and chair awaited him, next to a stand holding copies of his book.

"If you need coffee or anything, just let me know," Shippo insisted and left him to go unlock the doors.

The amount of women who flooded in at the moment filled the room within minutes, and Miroku was in his element. He flirted, shook hands, and allowed his picture to be taken, and signed copies of "Shirtless in Seattle" with peppy little messages. If he asked for something, it was there shortly. It was by far one of the best book signings he'd been to.

"Excuse me, could you sign a copy of this for my mother?" The only masculine voice he'd heard in hours asked. For some reason it sounded familiar. He looked up and the reason clicked into place.

He had been in his living room flicking through channels, when he'd stopped on a talk show. Normally he wouldn't have but the headline drew him in. He set the remote next to him and focused on the screen.

"We all know of Saiga" the host stated. "The author who's top-selling novels, such as 'A Humans Dream', 'Along the Way,' and his newest 'Second Guess,' has become a household name over the last few years. His creative and ingenious writings leave nothing to be desired. Yet, he is a mystery who never talks to the public. Well, I have news for you! We at the studio managed to convince Saiga to do his first interview!"

The sound of the applause was almost deafening even through the television. Then a tall teenager walked from backstage. He had his long chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail. There was a spattering of freckles over his nose and cheekbones, and he wore a t-shirt and jeans. This couldn't be Saiga. He'd been writing books since before Miroku was born! Books that Miroku would read while the other kids played four-square, soccer and basketball. He was the author who had inspired Miroku to become an author himself. This kid couldn't even be his own age. Still, he watched as the boy walked up to the host and smiled, shaking her hand.

"Saiga asked me to apologize to you," he said, "because he can't make it today." The audience booed.

"This is unfortunate. My audience has been looking forward to this interview." The host frowned. The young man nodded.

"Saiga realizes this, but his wife is nearing her due date and he can't bear to leave her side. She's having twins." The audience ceased their booing instantly and more than a few 'awws' escaped their lips instead.

"Oh, how wonderful!" The host chirped. "I hope you give him our heartfelt congratulations!" The boy smiled.

"Actually, we have him on the line, if you want to tell him yourself."

"You work with Saiga" Miroku said quietly before taking the book. The young man in front of him groaned.

"Don't let anyone hear you say that. I don't want to get mobbed." His voice was amused but serious. "I'm Kohaku."

"Sorry", Miroku apologized, opening the cover of the book. "Who do I make this out to?"

"Rin."

'To the beautiful Rin, may your heart bloom as the flowers of a cherry blossom tree. Sweet and beautiful.' When he was finished writing he closed the book and passed it back.

"Thanks. She'll really appreciated it."

"No problem. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Miroku leaned in, so as not to be overheard.

"Why did Saiga send you for that interview?" His voice was quiet. "How did you manage to get a job with him? I heard it was almost impossible." The question earned him a strange look, but then Kohaku grinned.

"You're a fan."

"I am," Miroku admitted seriously, and nodded. Kohaku chuckled.

"I don't work for him," was his answer. "It was more of a family favour." Miroku raised his eyebrows.

"Family favour?" he questioned. Kohaku chuckled once more.

"See you later, Mr. Takeuchi." With that he left, with Miroku staring after him in surprise.

It also left him something to think about for the next little while.


	2. Mystery Girl

Miroku stood up and stretched. It had been a long day so far. His rear was numb and his wrist was cramped. When he'd told Shippo this the kitsune had chuckled and suggested he take a break. The fans objected, but he smiled apologetically and stood up, promising to return soon. He then wandered off in search of a washroom. When he walked out of the room he began, with no particular objective in mind, he began to wander the store, only to come across a mystery.

The first thing he noticed about her was the peculiar aura surrounding her. Not one, but three different youki floated about her, clinging to her hair, clothes and skin. He focused a little and detected a fourth aura. A yellow human reiki. Whoever this girl was, she was something to demons. Something important by the looks of it.

The first aura that jumped to the front of his mind was the most baffling. It was a soft pink hue, almost to the point of being white. Then Miroku remembered that he'd seen wisps of pink floating about the hidden room. It was the brightest youki he had ever seen, never mind that it was attached to a human. It made him wonder at its pure form.

The next youki was a bright orange, signalling hanyou. It was a vivid aura for a half-demon, but not as impressive as the first. The third youki belonged to Shippo, telling him that she either often graced Foxfire with her presence or she knew its owner on a personal level. He closed off his chi, dimming out the auras until he had reduced himself almost too normal human sight. Yet, the pink youki still clung to his psyche.

The second thing he noticed was her amazing ass, which under normal circumstances would likely have been the first thing he had noticed, considering the state in which he'd come across her. She'd just bent down to pull something out of a box, giving him a perfect view. With a black pencil skirt, little closed-toe pumps, and an adorable blouse with ruffles peeking out from under a smart looking blazer she was a knockout.

As he approached she straightened up as if she'd heard him coming. She turned around, clutching what looked to be a copy of Shirtless in Seattle to her chest.

Her face was just as beautiful as the rest of her. Her skin was rather pale, but her cheeks were pink with a healthy glow to them. Her lips were a gentle red and looked soft. There was a light dusting of hot pink shadow on her eyelids. Long, dark lashes rimmed big blue eyes. He found himself thinking it was odd, and realized he had half expected them to be as brown as his own for some reason. The verdict: she was one hundred percent his type.

He reached out and gently took the book from her hands, flipping open the cover and pulling out his pen.

'To the most captivating girl I've seen,' he found himself writing, finishing it with his lazily scrawled signature. He smiled as he passed the book back to her. He could see the surprise in her beautiful eyes.

"No need to thank me" he insisted. "You're too gorgeous for me not to have signed it for you." The look of surprise became an incredulous one.

"You've just signed your own book," her voice was feminine but strong, and confident. Taking a step towards him, she thrust the book against his chest and walked away.

Miroku stared after her in confusion. That was not what was supposed to happen. He'd expected a laugh, or the other usual responses. Even a smile. He looked down at the book in his hands and blinked. This book, though the dust jacket was the exact same colour, was not Shirtless in Seattle. Instead of his own novel he was staring at the title The Painted.

The Painted was the first book of a new series by Mr. T. Saiga. It was rumored to be a mystery novel. He had been anxiously awaiting it and it wasn't supposed to be out for another month. It shouldn't be here, though it definitely was in his hands.

Miroku walked into the front room and saw the Mystery Girl standing behind one of the three cash registers. She was helping an elderly lady pack a rather large book into a medium sized bag.

"May I assist you?" he asked pleasantly. The two women turned their eyes on him. The older of the two looked quite happy about this suggestion, while the younger looked rather annoyed. Ignoring the less appreciative look, he picked up the book and easily slid it into the bag. "I've had a lot of experience trying to fit big things into smaller spaces, myself."

"Thank you, young man!" The lady reached out and grabbed her bag, leaving before he could offer to carry it for her. He shrugged and turned back to the counter only to see his Mystery Girl walking away.

"Wait!" He followed her and grabbed a hold of her wrist. She whirled around.

"What gives you the right to touch me?" she snapped and he automatically let go.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to ask you a question." He held up the book in his hand. "Where did you get this?"

"From the publisher and T. Saiga."

"I meant, why do you have it already? I know for a fact that it's not due to be out for five weeks!"

"Seeing as you hold it in your hands, I assumed you deduced that we got it early" she commented. "As a matter of fact, we receive all of Saiga's books ahead of schedule."

"Really?" He felt his inner fan boy jump up and down in excitement. "How early?"

"Anywhere between a month to three, usually. Now if you will excuse me Mr. Takeuchi, I need to get back to work." With that she walked away. If he said that he didn't watch her hips sway slightly from side to side as she walked he would be lying.

"Is that all for you?' Miroku, who was lost in thought, jumped at the masculine voice he heard from just behind him. He turned to see a hanyou with long hair the color of freshly polished silver and two dog ears atop his head. Instinctually his 'second sight' turned itself back on full force. This youki was the bright orange he'd seen surrounding his Mystery Girl. It told him much.

In the case of hanyous, they really had two auras. Each would have a reiki, directly received from their human parent, and a youki passed down from their demon lineage. These two auras were so closely intertwined that they appeared to be one. The brightness told him the strength of the half demon's parents.

A bright red accounted for the demon parent, and by the reading of its waves he could tell that it was most likely the father. The bright yellow that danced around the strong red told him that this hanyous mother had quite the strong spirit. When read together he could see the pride and strength of the person in front of him.

It made him wonder even more about the mystery book woman. How did she have strong enough connections to have these youki imprinted onto herself? Who was she to be so far out of the norm and so close to a world where few were permitted to enter? Of the few who were brought into demon company, not many stayed.

"If you're not done can you let others to the front of the line? It's kind of busy?" The hanyou grinned at him over the counter.

"Oh," Miroku cleared his throat, "I'm done, sorry." He handed his new book over to the clerk. "How much do I owe you?" The hanyou turned the book over as if looking for a price, then looked up.

"Hey Shippo, how much for the new book by Saiga?" he called across the room.

"Twenty five dollars InuYasha, and please stop yelling. We have a computer for a reason. Scan in the barcode next time like you're supposed to." The kitsune's voice was amused bordering on annoyed.

"It takes too long and it's all complicated. I'd rather ask you. You know where everything is and everything we've got in the computer anyways." As InuYasha punched the total into the old register, Miroku noticed Shippo shake his head. He chuckled and turned back to the hanyou, handing him the sufficient amount of money.

"Thanks, see you next time Miroku."

As he returned to his seat, Miroku wondered if everyone knew his name. Lately that sure seemed to be the case. They often also seemed to know more about him than should have been public knowledge. He chalked it up the reporters and Shima, but it was still quite unsettling.

It was only an hour or so more before there was an announcement on the loudspeaker informing the customers that the store would be closing in five minutes. Once the customers all had left and the doors were locked Shippo came to collect him.

As they walked through the building to the staff entrance, Miroku found himself drawn to the blue glowing door of the hidden room. His eyes sought it out as they walked passed. It was calling to him.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer from earlier" he told the kitsune as he was about to leave. Shippo smiled and twitched his tails.

"I thought you might. When can we expect you back?" Miroku thought for a moment.

"Next week?"

"I'll be here."


	3. Love

True to his word, Miroku was outside the door of Foxfire Books at nine o'clock in the morning the next Tuesday. Whatever fox magic surveillance Shippo had covering the building was impressive, because in a matter of minutes he was in the secret room. Once again he was almost entranced by the glow and the pull of the powerful books. He reached out to touch one of the blue glowing shelves, only to have his hand slapped away. Attached to the hand that had knocked his own away from the shelf was a demon with humongous eyes and a bright, almost fuscia youki.

Miroku looked at Shippo with raised eyebrows.

"Totosai, this is Miroku," the demon introduced, his voice raised above normal levels. The old youkai turned his eyes from Miroku to Shippo and back again. Miroku had the familiar feeling of being watched.

"The one you told me about?" The old demons voice was rough with age but soft with wisdom.

"Yes, that one. He has my permission to be in here and read to learn what he will."

"So long as he follows the rules" Totosai replied, cleaning out his ear with his pinky finger. He cleared his throat and Shippo nodded.

"Of course." Shippo turned to Miroku, grinning. "Totosai will explain the rules to you. You'd be a fool to break them. I did once. The hair on my tails took almost a year to grow back." Miroku wondered at that. The old demon let out a little cough and a small puff of smoke escaped his mouth.

"What are these rules?' he asked. Shippo slipped out of the room and Miroku heard the door shut as Totosai began to explain the guidelines to him.

"First, no liquids or foods near the documents. Second, no copying materials unless you have permission to do so. Third, removal of any of the books or scrolls from this room will be considered theft. This is not a library. Four, treat the things in the room with respect. Every book in here is unique to this room. You will not find another copy in the world. Some are even transcribed, for the originals were destroyed, and they were then written from memory."

"Who's memory?" Miroku was curious. "Yours?" Totosai shook his head, sending his short white ponytail bouncing.

"The memory of a demon greater, though much younger than I." Miroku thought about it and nodded. It made sense. "The last rule is, if Sango enters the room you may not disturb or bother her. If you do, she will tell me and you will be kicked out and denied admittance."

"Sango?"

"Yes. She is studying to become a human and demon relations officer. She comes here on most days to study. The girl is destined to be much help and do much for youkai and hanyou everywhere, and we won't tolerate you disrupting her research."

"So, take care of the books, they don't leave the room, and don't bother the studying girl. I think I've got it."

Totosai looked in to his eyes and Miroku stared back. The demon nodded, as if he were satisfied by something he'd seen, and slipped into a sitting position, legs crossed, on the floor. He leaned his back against the side of a bookshelf and closed his eyes, as if to meditate. Miroku took this as a cue that he may begin his reading and started to wander.

It didn't take him long to distinguish the obvious line of separation between the human books from the demon books. Each area held interest for him, but one thing piqued his curiosity. Near the back there was one shelf that contained books and scrolls that were cloaked in the residue of that blindingly pink youki that had surrounded his Mystery Girl. It was intriguing, but starting with the basics seemed like the best idea, so he grabbed a book bound with some kind of leather in the isle with the marker that read 'history.'

When he opened it the yellow glow intensified. He sat in a chair in the corner of the sitting portion of the room and began to read. The writing was not what he'd expected from a history book at all. It was riveting. He had heard of some of these things happening before, but hadn't quite believed. This book went back many years to the time when Monk Miatsu had lived. It spoke of youkai running rampant and slaughtering many people. It mentioned all of a manner of adventures that were had. He was so focused that he didn't even look up when the door opened. There was the sound of paper rustling and then footsteps became closer.

"Oh." The voice was feminine. "I'm sorry. There usually isn't anyone in here." Miroku looked up and was surprised.

"It's you!" They said in unison. One voice annoyed, the other pleased.

"That pompous vandal-"

"My Mystery Girl!" He pretended he didn't hear her comment. He was way too pleased that she'd remembered him to be offended. "You're Sango?" The girl pushed her bangs out of her face with her fingertips and straightened her posture.

"Yes I am, and you're Miroku Takeuchi."

"Just Miroku is fine."

"Hmm" Sango raised a calculating eyebrow at him, and moved to a desk a few feet away from him and sat down. He watched for a moment as she set her documents down on the tabletop, then he turned back to his book. It was hard to keep from staring, and he allowed himself a few glances.

Today she was wearing flats. White hose covered her wonderful legs. A very professional looking black dress, with just the right amount of cleavage, hung to her knees and was tightened at her waist by a thin white belt. The outfit was completed with a warm looking, but fashionable black sweater. Every time he looked up she wore an expression of intense concentration. Sometimes her forehead was creased and her teeth worried her bottom lip. He was in the middle of making this observation when her eyes raised from her papers to meet his.

"Yes?" she asked, catching him off guard.

"What?"

"You've been watching me off and on since I came in. I don't feel like pretending like I didn't notice, so did you have something to say to me?"

"First, may I ask you if there is anything I could say that would bother you?" Miroku asked.

"I'm sure there is, but I guess you'll just have to wait and see." There was a slight taunt in her voice that made his competitive side toss its head and growl.

"Cute."

"I try." Miroku enjoyed a laugh at that and leaned back in his chair. Sango's eyes slid back down to her notebook and she scribbled a few notes. As she read, this time he noticed that the expression in her eyes change, but still the concentration stayed. "You love to read." It was more a statement though he posed it as a question. She sighed and he could see annoyance begin to show.

"I love books, so reading comes naturally. Now, will you be quiet, Mr. Takeuchi? I'm writing a paper and it's worth thirty percent of my grade in demon history."

"Sorry, I'll get going then." He stood up and headed for the door. "Oh, and Sango?" he turned back to look at her just before leaving and said, "call me Miroku."


	4. Light

"Hey Miroku, are you looking for something?"

Miroku peeked around the bookshelf he was perusing and smiled at Shippo. The kitsune was wearing a paint spattered apron and carrying a handful of paint brushes. He shifted his books in his arms.

"Not really. Just browsing for new, non-academic reading materials, mostly. I found this amazing author called Inari. She's apparently got eighteen books out so far. Listen to this; it wasn't because I felt nothing, it was because I felt everything." Shippo gave him a strange look.

"Yeah, she's pretty popular. I was trying to book her for a signing, but she's far too busy. What time did you get here?"

"A couple of minutes after you opened the door. I was going to do more 'historical reading' but this caught my eye." He held up the book titled ‘The one That got Away’. "I'm going there now. I wouldn't wanna attract a crowd." He tipped his blue ball cap, which covered the majority of his black hair, in the kitsune’s direction and readjusted his sunglasses that had slipped slightly down his nose, exposing his brown eyes.

"You don't need to rush. Look around if you want."

"Alright, I just wouldn't want to be too late, you know?"

"To flirt with Sango?" Shippo’s voice was sly and teasing. Miroku smirked in response. The kitsune’s tails flicked smoothly from side to side, trailing youki behind them. When he spoke again he sounded amused. “Watch your step Miroku. Sango is very serious about her schooling. If you come on too strong she may run off. Then again, at least you won't have to worry about her beating you..."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing. See you later." Shippo walked away with a spring in his step. Miroku inexplicably felt as if he had just been made the butt of a joke that he didn't understand. He shook his head and walked from the sale shelf to the secret room.

"Hello again Sango," he said pleasantly, as he opened the door. Once the door was ajar it wasn't Sango he saw behind it. Instead Totosai met his gaze with disapproval, or what he thought may have been disapproval. It was hard to tell. "Sorry" he apologized and stepped around the ancient youkai to the studying area. "Hello again Sango." The girl looked up at him, and it may have just been his imagination but he thought that there may have been a hint of a smile on her face.

"Good afternoon Mr. Takeuchi."

"Is it afternoon, really? And I told you to call me Miroku!"

"It's two minutes past twelve, therefore afternoon, and I'd rather not Mr. Takeuchi." Miroku let out a sigh.

"Fine then, sweetness." Big blue eyes blinked at him.

"What did you just call me?" She asked.

"Well you won't call me by my first name, and I don't know your last name so I had to make a choice. Sweetness, honey, babe; take your pick." Sango stared at him in disbelief, her blue blouse bringing out her eyes. She was leaning forward slightly and he took a minute to admire the view.

"That is rather inappropriate." His eyes raised from inspecting some of the finer seams of her clothing and met hers. Had she noticed? "Using endearments on someone you barely know." She answered and he shrugged and smiled. "Oh, and it's also rude to stare at my chest. Don't think I didn't notice." Miroku gave a sheepish grin.

"My apologies, but did you know that the Romans had three words for kisses? Basium, for kisses between acquaintances. Osculum for kisses between close friends. Lastly, suavium for kisses between lovers." That earned him the mightiest eye roll he'd ever witnessed. He grinned and took his seat across the room from her. He pulled out ‘The one That got Away’ and opened it to the first page.

The book was about a man who cared about no one. He had no tact or respect for others. Then he fell in love. She was everything to him. Then he lost her, and he couldn't even remember why. Halfway through the novel it changed points of view to the girl’s experience. She explained that their love had been strong and wonderful, but the boy didn't seem to have time for her. They got engaged, but he couldn't even spare the time to go over wedding plans together. Once a business man, always a business man. That's what happened.

Suddenly a shadow fell over his book. He turned his eyes to see Sango leaning over his shoulder. She was staring intently at the book and he watched her lips move slightly as she read.

"So this is what you like to read," she mused.

"Romance is one of the genres I find most stimulating, yes. Why?" Sango straightened up and took a step backwards as if just becoming aware of her proximity to him. She took the time to smooth out a wrinkle in her skirt before continuing.

"The things an author does or experiences in life has an effect on their writing style. What they themselves read plays a part in how they write."

"Oh, really? Do you know many authors?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

"If you meant personally, I wouldn't say many. I know a few." Her eyes unfocused for a moment and a pleasant smile graced her lips. He was slightly annoyed that it was not himself who had put that smile on her face. Whomever she had thought of she knew well and was fond of. Very much so.

"Sweetness, you are all that is light in this world all fit into one pretty little package." It had escaped his lips just as he'd thought it. He hadn't had the chance to stop himself. The look she gave him reaffirmed his deduction that she wasn't overly fond of him.

"It's almost closing time. Goodbye Mr. Takeuchi." She'd apparently packed up her books while he'd been absorbed in his book. She slung her bag over her shoulder.

"Until next time, sweetness," he said as she walked away.


	5. Dark

Miroku Takeuchi was a well-known playboy. He'd been quoted as using the most numerable and inventive pick-up lines. Contrary to popular belief, it was an image created by his agent to make him fit in to more the bad boy type role. Men acting like peacocks made them look like, well, cocks.

In reality he found such behavior humiliating, and never had he willingly submitted himself to it. That is, until he met Sango.

As he walked into the secret room and saw her bent over trying to reach a book on the bottom most shelf. He attempted to keep his mouth closed. No such luck.

"I wouldn't have guessed that you had a tattoo," he mused, tilting his head to the side for a slightly better view. "Much less one there!" Sango's body stiffened and straightened. He watched with a grin as she pulled her shirt down to cover the tails on her lower back. She turned around and there was a blush on her cheeks.

"Well, I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?" She remarked. At his amused smirk, her expression became defiant. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and fixed her eyes on his. "Anyways, it's not what you think. It's too classy and non-stereotypical to be a tramp stamp." There was a slight pout to her lips which he found cute. "I don't know why everyone groups them all together, but I don't agree. Butterflies in that area are tramp stamps, as are tribal designs, wings, script and such things as those. Not everything." Miroku laughed and held his hands up in front of himself.

"No need to explain yourself any further, my dark haired goddess of literature, and your secret is safe with me!" his words earned him a look he had yet to receive. It was a cross between disapproval, amusement and an unbelieving look. He smiled in return and Sango shook her head, turning her face away.

"You really are unbelievable." If Miroku wasn't mistaking he could hear the hint of a laugh in her voice. A small victory. He was about to offer a compliment of his own, when there was a rapping at the door. He looked to see who was there as it opened.

"Hey, sis," Kohaku said, then noticing Miroku and adding, "and Miroku. If I had known you would be here I would have brought extra coffee." The younger man placed a coffee cup on the table next to Sango. The smile he offered made the smattering of freckles on his face even more noticeable. "When are you here?"

"Mostly Tuesdays and Thursdays, except not every single one," Sango chimed in before Miroku could open his mouth. His eyes turned from Sango to Kohaku.

The sister comment noted, he began to notice the family resemblance. The shade of hair. The similar underlying bone structure of their faces. Then he realized that, while Sango's eyes were blue, Kohaku's were a chocolate brown. It explained why he had at first been surprised to find that Sango's weren't. His subconscious mind had obviously noted what his conscious mind had not and had made the connection. He continued to observe their interaction.

"Only twice a week? Alright, I will bring you one next time. What do you take?"

"Nothing. I drink my coffee black" Miroku informed. He smiled at the fact that Kohaku was offering to bring him coffee. It was the first time in a long time that anyone had offered to bring him anything.

"One extra-large black."

"I don't know how people can do that" Sango announced. Miroku tilted his head to the side quizzically, fixing his eyes on her.

"Do what?"

"Drink coffee black" she answered.

"Sango gets so much cream and sugar in hers that there's hardly any coffee at all" Kohaku joked.

"Oh, really?"

"You sound surprised" Sango remarked.

"I am. I just figured you to be the no nonsense, black coffee, wear a business suit to bed type. To find out that I am wrong is refreshing and rather endearing." Sango blushed again, albeit slightly, at the compliment. "It's also cute."

"You're ridiculous." She turned away, and began to organize her stuff. Kohaku chuckled. It was a very light chuckle that made one want to smile.

"I'd better get going" Kohaku addressed Miroku in gesture, and both of them by voice. "If I don't get back with Rin's coffee she will likely force me to go shopping with her." The younger man mocked a shudder and Miroku laughed.

"See you later Kohaku." Miroku nodded to the boy. Kohaku waved before departing the room.

Miroku sat back in his chair and relaxed, once again selecting a history book from a nearby shelf. He propped his left leg up on his right knee, using it as a platform to rest his book.

This book was drier than the last and he found his mind wandering.

"Did you know that the word Utopia that we assign to a perfect place actually means 'nowhere' in ancient Greek?" He looked up.

Sango's expression was strange. He couldn't quite tell what she was thinking. Her lips pursed slightly before they spoke.

"Monk history makes you think of utopia?"

"Honestly, it makes me think of many things. Especially when it's this dry, “he admitted, looking down. He thought that he heard her laugh, but it could have just been wishful thinking. "I had hoped that this would be relatively painless, but it seems that reading some of these books will be the equivalent of pulling teeth."

"Some of the demon history can be just as bad, especially when you are just starting out" Sango sympathized. "It was a drastically different time and even the language isn't very similar. At times you can even put yourself in their shoes because they are so different. Eventually it gets easier to do."

He looked up to see her smiling at him. She took a sip of her coffee. She rotated it between her palms as if she were warming up her hands on the heat of the paper cup. They sat there in silence for minutes. How many, he didn't know, but it was pleasant.

"Well you've surprised me in a few ways yourself." Sango was the first to break the silence. "I must admit that I thought you were a shallow, idiotic, patronizing, pigheaded, chauvinist, but now I realize you're not." Even with the ending reassurance, that description still hurt, and it must have shown on his face because Sango's pretty lips formed a small 'o' before she continued to speak. When she did there was an apology in her voice. "I'm sorry about that. It was rude, but honest. Whenever I've seen you on television you are always flirting with women, or mentioned in some kind of scandal. Like I said, you have definitely proven them wrong, though you still are rather forward." She gave him a look and he knew that she was referring to how they'd met.

“I did make a complete ass out of myself that time." He chuckled. “Alright, you are forgiven my mysterious goddess." Another look. "Hey, I told you that if you want me to stop giving you nicknames then you have to stop using my last name!"

"Keep dreaming, Takeuchi."


	6. Seeking Solace

The first person whom Miroku ran into when he next arrived at Foxfire was the person he'd had the least opportunity to talk with so far. The hanyou was sitting in one of the luxurious chairs of the reading room, a cup of instant ramen in one hand, and chopsticks in the other. His long hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. His feet were propped up on the table, and his shoes were leaving marks on the wood that Shippo was sure to notice. Miroku had the sneaking suspicion that not much got past the shop owner.

"Good morning," he offered and sat on a little padded stool about three feet to the left of the fore-mentioned table.

"Morning Miroku." InuYasha barely glanced his way and kept on slurping up large amounts of glistening noodles. "What brings you here so early? Don't you usually come in closer to ten or eleven?"

"You've noticed?"

"Well, yeah. I hear, and smell you the moment you walk through the door." The silver ears atop his head twitched as if proving a point.

"Ah, yes, you would have stronger senses, wouldn't you?" The question rhetorical question, so he continued. "If you don't mind me asking, just how strong are they?" InuYasha shrugged a shoulder and leaned back.

"Well my eyesight's nothing to bark about," he stated, "but you're wearing Acqua De Gio cologne, and three kids just came into the store." He sniffed and those ears perked up. "One girl and two boys." Miroku stared. He smiled into the gaze of the hanyou and nodded, grinning.

"That's pretty impressive." It was as sincere a compliment as they come. It was impressive that InuYasha could tell so much by smell alone, never mind using his acute hearing. The author had now gained a new level of respect for the half-demon. "To answer your question, I am trying to avoid my ex-wife. She left me a message last night, saying that she needed to talk to me, so I left right after I showered this morning."

"Any special reason that you're in hiding rather than searching her out and just getting the conversation out of the way?"

"Generally, when Shima 'needs to talk' it's usually about how she is in desperate need of money to buy herself a new Audi. Or there is the other possibility: that she's tuned over a new leaf, had a change of heart, and wants to get back together."

"Which is a no go?"

"Definitely not. She's an evil temptress, that one. She preys on the souls of the innocent, or I guess in this case semi-innocent. She definitely has no need of money." Miroku sighed and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "Honestly, I try to avoid her more often than not, though it is becoming increasingly difficult. She happens to be extremely persistent."

"Live and learn, I guess." InuYasha looked up and set his empty ramen cup on the table next to his feet. "Some people are just like that. Let me guess, the bitch left you for someone else?" Miroku grimaced. Thinking about the whole affair still left a terrible taste in his mouth.

"More or less," he answered sincerely. That was all he said and InuYasha didn't push the subject. He was very thankful for that. "Have you ever had that happen to you in a relationship?"

The hanyou shook his head, "can't say that I have, which I am plenty thankful for. I can't stomach people who do that." Then he seemed to something he'd said may have been offensive, and looked up to see Miroku's reaction, which was nothing. "I mean, if you want to flirt a little, be my guest, but if you cheat you're just terrible."

"I agree whole-heartedly!" Miroku nodded. Then he noticed that InuYasha’s eyebrows had risen until they were hidden by his bangs. "Why the look?"

"Oh, nothing. You just remind me of this lecherous, womanizing friend I used to have." InuYasha stood and stretched with his arms above his head.

"Well that's comforting." The sarcasm was noted.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." The hanyou patted him once on the shoulder and grinned. Though he looked to be in his late twenties to mid-thirties, and was no doubt much older, InuYasha’s grin was boyish and infectious. Miroku grinned back and got to his feet, pushing the stool out of the middle of the walkway.

"I'm getting too old, and also I'm too single, to still be getting offended at those comments. I'm pretty used to them at this point."

"Yeah, I heard about that big Kagura Shiomi disaster."

"Disaster? I thought that it was some of my best work!" They laughed like old friends, and for a minute it felt natural. Then Miroku became serious. "It's all an act actually. It's created by my agent."

"You don't say? What about the Chidori Koyama mishap of last year?" Miroku cringed.

"That, unfortunately, was Shima, my ex. She'd an evil vindictive witch. It used to be what I loved about her, but now she's just frightening." That set InuYasha laughing again to Miroku's amusement.

"Boy, you're quite a bit different," the hanyou said with a smile.

"Different?"

"Oh, just than I thought you'd be." Miroku had a feeling that there was more meaning behind InuYasha’s words, but he couldn't place exactly what it could be, and so he shrugged it off.

"There you are!" A familiar voice exclaimed. Kohaku, carrying a tray of coffees walked up to them. He proceeded to hand each of them their respective coffees. He had marked them with their respective initials, M.T. and I.S., to avoid mixing them up. Miroku wondered what the S stood for.

"You didn't have to bring me any," Miroku stated, "but thank you. It's much appreciated!"

"It's not a problem, really! Oh, InuYasha, Shippo is looking for you. He said something about how you play internet games on the store computer." Miroku spotted the look of guilt on InuYasha's face and chuckled. "I'd hurry and go see him if I were you. He was practically blue with anger."

"Blue with anger? I've never heard that one before," Miroku remarked with a twinge of amusement, taking a sip of his coffee. It was good. The best he'd had in a while, actually.

"If Shippo gets angry when he is already stressing out, his foxfire sometimes goes out of control, which means a lot of bad things for the shop and the people in it."

Miroku thought about it. The secret room was hidden by Shippo’s fox magic. Expensive equipment was secured with its power. All those things, the security system, and even the size of the building could be altered if something went awry.

"See you later Miroku." The hanyou walked away calmly, though Miroku could see a twinge of urgency in the way his youki and reiki were swirling about him. When he looked back Kohaku was gone, only to be replaced by a girl with short curly black hair. She was pale, and looked rather fragile, as if she were ill or overtired. She looked to be about thirteen or so. She was staring up into his eyes and he could see a strong will, but for some reason he could not see her reiki. All he could see was a dull blue sheen over her skin, and that was only if he focused with all he had. It was as if she were protected from his sight. A girl without a reiki. Curious.

"Can you sign my book?" She asked, throwing him off guard. Her voice was soft but strong.

"Sure, my pretty little lady." He reached out and took the book from her little hands.

To his surprise, the book was one of his earlier ones. It was about a private detective whose daughter was in the hospital. He later finds out that her illness was genetically engineered by the government, who were attempting to create biological weapons for war and control.

"What's your name sweetheart?" He asked.

"Kiyomi."

"That's a beautiful name," he complimented, smiling. Kiyomi didn't respond. She just watched as he wrote a little note and signed the book, then thanked him before walking away when he handed it back to her. She disappeared into the forest of shelves.


	7. Break Away

"Good morning, Mr. Takeuchi."

"Good morning to you too as well, honey buns."

"At least you're being consistent."

"Hmm?"

"You're sticking to your word. It's a good trait to have. You should put it on your resume. Oh, wait, you don't have one."

"That's not very nice." When he had arrived, Sango had already been nestled in her chair, looking comfortable in a big, grey, woolen sweater. Her legs were pulled up underneath her, and a book was open in her hands. "Is that a novel I see?" He acted scandalized. "Not a textbook?" Sango glanced up and nodded. "I'm surprised at you!"

"I can't study today," the girl said. She looked worried and her voice was slightly nervous. She bowed her head, but continued to speak. "I can't focus, and my, um, father says that if you try to force yourself to learn, that you do yourself far more harm than good. I don't really enjoy the idea of not studying, but in this situation it's the only thing I can do." She looked uncertain. Miroku smiled. He wanted to ease her fears, if only a little.

"I was only teasing, Sango. If anything, you study TOO much. You could stand to take MORE breaks. What are you reading, anyways?" He wondered. She hesitated before lifting the book from her lap to show him the cover. "Ha! You’re reading my book!" He exclaimed, trying to hide the majority of his elation at the new development.

"Don't read too much into it." Sango blushed. "It's not like I've read any of the others."

"Don't lie, Sango." Shippo’s voice came from between two bookshelves. "You and Rin each buy a copy of his books each time he comes out with a new one." Sango cast a betrayed look it the direction from which the voice had teasingly come from, and she hid her face behind her book. Miroku yawned to hide his smile, an attempt to keep the girl across from his from becoming too awkward. He hadn't even noticed that Shippo was in the room. All the different aura's much be clouding his 'sight'.

"It's always nice to meet my fans face to face," he teased, moving to perch on the armrest of the seat Sango had taken. He was very close. "Especially when they're as beautiful as you." Sango’s eyes widened and her entire face turned a bright shade of red. There was a loud laugh from another isle. Sango jumped up, pointing in that direction.

"Don't make me get you, Shippo!" She threatened. There was a quick shuffling sound and the door quickly opened and closed to the sound of Shippo’s laughter. Miroku watched as Sango stood there, now glaring at the door. He took the opportunity to check out the designs on the pockets of her black jeans. Come to think of it, this was the first time that he had ever seen her wear jeans, and they seemed to be designer. They looked exactly like the last thing he'd seen Shima wearing. To be fair, Sango did them more justice. The shirt that she wore was a white, short-sleeved button up number, and the purple decorative scarf that draped around her creamy neck was definitely silk. "Just so you know, buying your books is something I do with my mother. The only thing that she gets more excited about is lingerie shopping." That sent Miroku's eyebrows rocketing.

"Oh really? Sounds interesting. If you ever need a ride or an escort for that..." Sango ignored him and sat back down. "All joking aside, can I ask you what your favorite of my books is so far?"

"You could, but you may not like my answer."

"Why is that?"

"Simply put, all this new stuff you are writing, makes me feel like you are selling yourself short." That wasn't what he had expected to hear at all. He'd expected a joke, or maybe a jab at his style. "I mean that too. Your older books were my favorites. I couldn't possibly choose from the first three. The thing is, after that they turn into tabloid fodder. Stories about promiscuous women, that think they're too fat, and naive young women who fall in love with their bosses. Not very inventive, or original." There it was.

"I started writing these types of novels by suggestion of my agent," Miroku admitted. He wasn't offended in the least. He'd expected as much.

"Don't you like it?"

"I don't hate it."

"Didn't you used to love writing?"

"I always have, yes."

"Then why don't you break away and take up writing the way that you love to write? I can almost guarantee that your fans would be thrilled, and if not you would gain a whole new set of them. Plus, if your agent or publisher won't back you, I'm sure that you have enough money to back yourself." Not quite true, since Shima had spending habit, but after thinking of it for a moment he knew she was right.

"That's not a bad idea, honey buns. I might just do that."

"What can I say? I'm a genius."


	8. Heaven

The weather was decidedly no longer the warm summer temperatures that Miroku had come to expect. The change had been happening for a week or more now, but this was the first time that he had stopped to enjoy it. The leaves on the trees were bright reds, oranges, and yellows, and the ones that had already fallen to the ground were brown and crunched under his feet.

He'd always love autumn more than any other season. It wasn't too hot, nor too cold. Perfect for Goldilocks, and apparently also for Miroku Takeuchi. There was something about the freshness of the air that made him feel alive. This morning he couldn't resist walking to Foxfire, humming a tune as he did so.

It wasn't a long walk and only took him about fifteen minutes before he stepped into the store. He thought to himself how accustomed he'd become to these visits, and how he had come to enjoy it. He realized that for a few months leading up to his books signing he had been bored. Not just bored, plain old depressed. He hadn't doing much more than moping around his apartment, renting movies, and avoiding unpleasant people. He'd gained five pounds in that time, or so said his scale. He couldn't tell where this new weight had put itself, but was thankful that it wasn't visible.

He waved at InuYasha and Shippo as he passed them on the way to the library. The blue glow surrounding the door was less obvious, and more transparent to him and a light bulb went off in his head. He must be becoming acclimated to the auras of the demons that he was around on such a regular basis. He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed the handle, turning it and slowly swinging the door open.

A coffee sat on his end of the wooden table, but there was no one in sight.

"Hello," he called out. No answer. "That's odd." He'd never been in the room alone. He'd either been met by a silent stare from Totosai, or the ever studying Sango, and that was how he liked it. He shrugged again, and began to wander the isles of boxes in the back of the room. Each rectangular box held a scroll. Some were ornately decorated, others were plain as possible. He didn't even notice when he began to hum again. He did notice, however, when he began to sing out loud. Eventually he couldn't hold himself back, and he began to dance.

"Baby, you're all that I want, when you're lying here in my arms! I'm finding it hard to believe we're in heaven!"" He sang with a pencil held up to his mouth, acting like it was a microphone. Then he turned around and made eye contact with a comically smirking InuYasha. "Oh, InuYasha! I didn't hear you come in!" He remembered the pencil, and dropped his hand to his side.

"I can see that." Miroku could see that the hanyou was trying to hold back his laughter. To his embarrassment, InuYasha didn't drop it. "I never took you for a vocalist. You've got some skills." They ever present smirk turned to a grin.

"Yeah, I was in choir and the drama club in high school."

"Interesting."

"How so?" He couldn't help that his voice was a mite defensive.

"Sango's a theater minor. She's actually at an audition right now. Romeo and Juliet, of all things. We're waiting to hear the news." This news actually shocked Miroku. Of all of the things he may have expected Sango to be interested in, theater was not even near the top of the list. He pictured her dressed up as Capulets daughter, and his breath was nearly taken away by how captivating she would look.

"Well, I wish her luck, though she can't hear me," he offered. "I take it, since you are 'waiting to hear,' Sango won't be here today?" InuYasha yawned and scratched the nape of his neck.

"Sorry to burst your bubble Miroku, but that's right. She'll be calling later if you want to wait." Miroku looked at his watch. It was about one in the afternoon. Being in a slump, he'd had nothing lined up on his calendar for quite some time. He had nothing BUT time. The only downside was not seeing Sango.

"Of course I'll be here. I've got to catch up on my reading anyways." He paused. "InuYasha, have you read any of these books/" The hanyou nodded.

"I've read a few, why?"

"Can you suggest a book to me then?" Miroku was wary of reading another sleep-inducing book so close to the last. He noticed InuYasha’s ears twitch. It wasn't an agitated or particularly uncomfortable movement, and he couldn't really tell what feeling it portrayed. Interest maybe? There was a pause before he got his answer.

"Sure, let me see..." InuYasha wandered away from the scrolls and down the short hall that led to rows of bound volumes, and Miroku followed. His nose twitch slightly, indicating that he'd decided to sniff out the scent of the volume he'd been searching for, then it wrinkled as if smelling something unpleasant. Miroku could have sworn that he heard him grumble, "The bastard's scent is on everything," but made no comment. He watched the golden eyes search each shelf. Finally a spark of recognition lit them up, and InuYasha reached up, pulling a large tan colored book from the topmost shelf. He held it out to the author at his side. "Here, this one is good."

"Thanks," Miroku took the book, "I really appreciate it. The last one I read was brutal."

"I hear ya'." Then the door to the library opened and Kohaku burst in, closely followed by Shippo and a girl whom Miroku had never met before. A few strands of hair had fallen free from Kohaku's rather surprising ponytail. It was the first time that he'd thought about it, but Miroku had to guess that Kohaku's hair was probably about as long as his sisters. Right now the freckled face had a look of utmost excitement.

"Sango called! She got the part! She's Juliet!" There was a chorus of cheers around the room. Miroku and the new girl joined in just as enthusiastically. He was caught staring at her and she turned, extending her hand to him with a smile.

"I'm Sayuri. I'm... I come here a lot." He shook her hands.

The girl in question looked to be in her mid-teens or so, and was not quite as tall as Shippo, who was standing rather close. She had close-cropped chocolate brown hair that still looked feminine, and a sunny smile. Her nails were painted neon green and bitten down to the point where they looked like they may bleed. She was in a blue and white high school uniform, suggest that she may have come straight from her lessons. In her pretty and uncommonly shaded green eyes, he could see a glimpse of the spirit that her reiki had hinted at. She was not shy this one, yet she wasn't reckless. By her earlier verbal slip, he guessed that she had a thing for the kitsune.

Miroku gave himself a second to imagine what a kitsune hanyou would look like. He knew there had never been one before. He had read it in an article once. All he could imagine was a smaller version of Sayuri in a fox costume. Cute.

"Hello Sayuri, I am-"

"You don't need to introduce yourself, Mr. Takeuchi."

"Please, call me Miroku, my dear." He turned her hand over in his own and kissed her knuckle gently, making her giggle. He felt more than saw blue youki rush out around him. He held back a chuckle. Her kitsune was quite taken with her as well. Even if he had not said it, he had subconsciously protected what was, or he hoped to be, his. He released her hand from his bigger one and smiled. The youki around him dispersed. Then he turned to Kohaku, noticing how Sayuri stepped back and took her place next to the shop owner as soon as she was released.

"You’ll congratulate her for me?" He asked. "I mean, I'll do it once I see her, but it'll come four days too late." A grin came before the answer.

"I already did. She said thank you to everyone, and asked for no one to buy her any gifts or anything. She said that if you do, she will re-wrap them and hand them back on your respective birthdays." That amused everyone.

"But really, shouldn't we get her something?" Sayuri asked. InuYasha was first to respond. He shook his head. 

"Sango usually doesn't like for people to make big deals of her accomplishments, though she has made many. She'd much rather just receive a pat on the back for a job well done. HE taught her that." Everyone seemed to accept this as an appropriate answer. Miroku was the only one who seemed to wonder at the last statement.

"Who are you referring to when you say he?" Everyone exchanged amused glances. InuYasha even chuckled.

"You'll see soon enough."


	9. Innocence and Drive

"What did you just call me?" Sango asked. Her blue eyes flashed fiercely, and Miroku almost re-thought the nickname he'd chosen for the day. He met her eyes with a feigned look of innocence.

"Hotlegs."

"Okay, Miroku. You told me that if I called you by your name then you would stop."

"Indeed I did, Sango dear. As long as you use my first name, I'll us yours. I almost can't believe that you lasted so long."

"You'd better keep your word."

"Have you yet known me to do anything else?"

"No," she admitted.

"There you go. Oh, and Sango?"

"Hmm?"

"Congratulations on getting the part."

"Thanks."

"No problem," he replied with a smile. "If it means anything I think that you will make a wonderful Juliet." Sango’s cheeks reddened slightly but then she shifted, taking the book from her lap and placing it on her binder, which was on the table in front of her.

"And you would know?" Her voice and expression were a touch skeptical as she stared into his face.

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun."

"Am I supposed to be impressed? That is one of the most famous quotes of the play." Her eyes were still skeptical.

"Would a less popular excerpt please the lady?" At her nod, Miroku took a deep breath. He had read Romeo and Juliet for the first time when he was fourteen years old. He'd loved Shakespeare through all his teen years, and so he did still. "Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more to blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath this neighbor air, and let rich music's tongue unfold the imagin'd happiness that both receive in either by this dear encounter."

He could tell that she was impressed, and it pleased him to see it. To see the intrigue in her eyes made him want to recite as many lines he knew, or had read, that he was sure she would take an interest in. He could take her on an intellectual journey and make more of a connection to this girl who had him so interested in her.

"You actually know the play! I'm surprised"

"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania."

"A Midsummer Night’s Dream!"

"There are many more where that came from." There was a new respect in her eyes, and she looked as if she were now hanging on to his every word. If he'd known that all he'd needed to do to catch her attention like this was quote Shakespeare, he would have recited any of the lines he had stored up in his memory, or recite any of the sonnets that he could recall. He couldn't remember all one hundred fifty-four of them, but he could remember quite a few. "I'm glad that you approve! Now that you know that I wasn't just pulling your leg," he grinned, "I'm going to offer you my assistance." Sango tilted her head, and he watched her as her bangs fell over her forehead.

"Assistance with what?"

"I could read lines with you." Her eyes widened. "I mean, I know Romeos lines, and also Mercutio’s for a matter of fact. I could help you learn your lines." Miroku practically saw the gears turn in her head. She nibbled her bottom lip slightly, and he couldn't help but watch.

"I'll keep the offer in mind. I'm alright right now. Thanks Miroku." It made him smile to hear her use his name.

"Glad to offer."

If that weren’t interesting enough, Miroku's next visit went something like this:

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," InuYasha warned just as Miroku placed his hand on the library’s door handle. Miroku looked over his shoulder.

"By the sound of your tone, it may be detrimental to my health if I do."

"It just may be."

"Why is that mon copin?" His terrible French earned him a raised eyebrow.

"The reason is simply that Sango is in a study grind."

"Isn't she always?"

"Oh, no. You have seen Sango, dabbling in her studying, if I may call it that. No, you've never seen her half as serious as she is right now. She has a test coming up- Political Studies, I believe- and she is very up-tight. She snapped at me when I said good morning." InuYasha mused.

He was right. If the studying Sango that he'd seen was taking it easy, then this Sango must be half-possessed. It didn't sound promising. Still, he didn't remove his hand from the door.

"It seems to me that she has the drive to do anything."

"Definitely."

"Then why does she push herself so hard? She could make herself ill with all this studying and overwork."

"She'll be fine. I mean, you're looking after her, and beyond that so are we. We know how fragile humans can be." There was a distinct sound to his voice. Miroku couldn't put a label on it because he didn't think he could do it justice. The best he could say was 'loss'. Something had deeply affected InuYasha where humans were involved. He decided to leave it alone.

"I never thought about it before, but, you guys are like family, aren't you?" He asked gently, finally taking his hand from the door. He leaned against the wall and fixed his attention on the hanyou. InuYasha was wearing a red t-shirt and jeans but managed to make them look more refined. Perhaps it was the confidence he carried himself with. Rather he thought that it was the intelligence in those golden eyes. His age helped too, Miroku was sure.

 

"I've known Sango since she was four." Miroku pictured Sango as a little girl, and smiled.

"How did you guys meet? Were you her babysitter or something?" Miroku asked.

"As if. I had enough of a time helping to raise Shippo after his father died."

"You helped raise Shippo?" He never would have guessed that InuYasha had had a hand in rearing the kitsune.

"Of course, though I nearly wanted to kill him sometimes. That fox magic and his tricks got him into trouble many times, and mostly with me. He had the tendency of sticking heavy rocks to my hands and leaving me there. Or he would turn into a giant pink balloon and gnaw on my head." InuYasha paused with a chuckle. "He wasn't too good at transformation back then, and it would get him into bad situations. The little brat didn't learn for at least two years, though it felt more like ten..." The hanyou trailed off, reaching down to tie his shoe.

Miroku tried to imagine a young Shippo. He'd have only have one tail, and Miroku could only guess at his size. Try as he might, he couldn't quite picture it. He gave up.

"So, how did you meet Sango? And why are you so close? She'd cloaked in your aura, and Shippo’s, and that of another demon that I don't know. She must be very important to you, for her well-being to warrant such protection."

"It's true. Sango is very important, but you aren't ready for that story yet. You'll figure it out eventually if you keep on the track you're on. As for hoe she came under our protection, well, that story doesn't quite belong to me. It's Sango’s story to tell." InuYasha straightened and fixed Miroku with a stare that told him he would divulge no more. 

Then InuYasha surprised him by tilting his head back slightly and putting one of his impressive claws on his chin. "Honestly, I think that she will tell you. Just be patient, don't pry, and be yourself."

The hanyou smiled in a softer way than the author had realized he could, and extended his hand to pat him once on the shoulder, as he had done before. Then he turned and left Miroku alone to reflect on the things he had just heard.


	10. Breathe Again

For the first time since he had met her, Miroku saw Sango outside of the hidden room. Her back was to him, and she was all the way across the room, but he could tell that it was her. She was reaching up to put a red book on a higher shelf. Her clothing was the usual colorful blouse and sexy, yet practical skirt type of outfit.

He began to walk over, but his body was frozen in its spot. He tried to move, but his limbs were very heavy, as if he had been swimming in jeans and a sweater for a couple hours. Suddenly, he felt a warm, prodding feeling. He looked down and blinked. His body was covered with that vivid, pink-white youki that was so impressive. He followed it with his eyes, and saw the body it belonged to, and to which it was attached at the tips of the clawed fingers.

The demon was now in front of him. Miroku had to guess that if they were side by side, this stranger would be at least half a head taller than himself. His eyes had InuYasha’s golden hue, but were infinitely fiercer, with their slit-like pupils. His ears were pointed as Shippo’s, yet his long, straight hair, which was pulled back into a braid, was the color of new silver. He wore a pin-striped business suit, and dress shoes. Miroku opened his mouth to introduce himself.

"Don't speak." The demons voice was deep and soft. Miroku started to raise a hand, fighting with his heavy arms. The demons eyes narrowed. "Stay still." Miroku froze. It was half involuntary on his part, for the moment the demon had uttered those last two words, the youki had pressed against his body more insistently than before. If he had had no sort of powers, he probably would not have been able to move at all. "Hnn..."

Miroku watched as this handsome and imposing stranger stared at him. The look on his face made it seem as if he were sizing him up, then golden eyes settled on brown ones. The demons eyes narrowed even further as he gazed, and Miroku began to feel as if he was being read, like one of the books that he so very much enjoyed writing. It was as if the demon could see right through him. Then the youki dispersed, and the demon turned. Without a word, he walked out the door, not a wrinkle in his suit and not a hair out of place.

Once Miroku could breathe again, he wondered who this stranger was, and why he was so interested in him. It gave him a nervous feeling in his stomach. He tried to shake it off, and continued on his path to Sango. She turned and smiled at him before he made it three-quarters of the way across the room. He waved and she returned it.

"Hello Miroku." Her voice was cheery and her eyes were filled with sparkles. "It's been a while."

"It has." He couldn't help but smile at her sunny disposition, and willed the uncomfortable feeling to go away. "You're in a chipper mood," he commented.

"I am, and I have a surprise for you," Sango responded. She turned and lifted one of the red books from the box at her feet, and held it out to him. He blinked at it.

"No," he took the volume from her hands, "it can't be." In his hand was Saiga’s newest book. He stared at the scarlet cover in shock.

"Yes! Saiga finished it early, and brought us over advanced copies today! I knew that you'd be in soon, so I wanted to tell you myself!"

"You were thinking of me?"

"This one's really good! You'll love it!" She spoke over him, ignoring his question.

"How thoughtful of you, Sango." He reached out and hugged her. She stiffened in his arms, and he heard a chuckle from behind him. Shippo gave him a thumbs up from behind the computer, but then shook his head. Hesitantly, he released her from his grasp with a sheepish grin. Sango’s face was no longer glowing. It was reserved, and showed no emotion. She wouldn't meet his eyes. He'd made the wrong move.

"Sorry."

"I have to get back to work," she said, stepping back from him, and pulling an invisible wall up around herself. Miroku cursed himself inwardly. How could he have done that? He probably just set their relationship back about five steps. He and Shippo exchanged looks and Shippo shrugged, turning back to the computer screen.

Miroku silently excused himself, believing it to be a choice for the better.


	11. Memory

Miroku rolled over and switched his frantically beeping alarm clock off. He pulled his comforter up so that it covered the bottom half of his face. He had been taken from his slumber at the most inappropriate time. He had been in the middle of a dream when eight o'clock had rolled around.

The dream was as real as a memory that may have happened a few moments before, but it was not any memory which could have possibly belonged to himself. When he had looked around the dream world, he had been surrounded by trees, not the concrete of a city. In fact, there didn't seem to be a city, or even a town anywhere near, or in the distance. He could almost feel the grass under his feet, and he looked down to see that all that he wore on them were thong sandals. Even more bizarre was that he was wearing a koromo and kesa, like the Sôtô Zen Buddhist that he'd seen in some of the history books he'd been reading. They were violet and blue, and he dared add: comfortable.

He wasn't alone either. Next to him were a few of the people he was now used to seeing fairly regularly, but they were different.

InuYasha was the most similar. His silver hair hung a bit longer in the back, and his eyes were direct. It was his apparel that threw Miroku off. He wore a bright red strange kimono, and his feet were bare. In his hand was a gigantic antique-looking sword with fur at the hilt.

Next to him stood a girl. She looked familiar, but Miroku could not for the life of him remember her name. She had long, wavy, raven hair, and wore red hakama and a white hakui, tabi socks and zori sandals, indicating that she was a miko. She smiled and her brown eyes shone bright. There was a bow strapped to her back next to a quiver of arrows.

He no longer had to strain to guess at what a young Shippo may look like, because the kitsune that was perched on the girls shoulder looked too much like the shop owner for the image not to be accurate.

He had 'felt' a tub on his robes, and looked down to see a small, two-tailed cat demon staring up at him. It mewled and blinked up at him with bright red eyes. A feeling of familiarity tugged at his mind, which was absurd. The neko scampered away and jumped into the arms of its master.

Even in a dream he paused when he saw her.

Sango stood near, holding the two-tail. Her eyes were as brown as he had once expected them to be, and her hair was pulled into a ponytail, yet it still reached past her waist. Her clothing was a skin-tight, black body suit, with various pieces of pink armor. There was a sword sheathed to her waist, and on her back, held up by a strap, was a boomerang. It was taller than she was, and seemed to be made of bone. It looked heavy.

She had opened her mouth, as if to speak to him, but all that had come out were loud beeps. Then he awoke, feeling nostalgic and desperately trying to get back to sleep. Try as he might, the tendrils of sleep would not reclaim his mind. In fact, they slithered further and further away.

He groaned and tossed off his blanket, exposing the parts of his body that weren't covered by his green boxer shorts to the cool air. Gooseflesh spread, and he rushed to relieve himself before dressing. Fitted blue denim jeans, and a grey pullover sweater solved the problem of the chill. Then he walked from the bedroom and into the rest of his apartment.

It was rather small: with one bedroom, a small kitchen; which was attached to the living room, and a small bathroom. Shima would have snorted at it, but it was all that he needed. Besides, he liked it. The only problem was that there was no room for his books. They overflowed from the bookshelves that lined each wall, except those in the hallway, into piles on the floor and the counter. Everywhere you stepped you had to be careful, or risk tripping over one novel or another.

In the living room there was one reclining arm chair, which just so happened to be the second most expensive possession he owned, next to his car. In front of it was a small coffee table. On the top, in between the stacks of books, were various nick-knacks. It also happened to be where he kept his keys. Next to the chair was a small lamp, which he had taken from his study at what was now Shima's house, and beneath it sat an old television, which hadn't been plugged in. To be frank, it probably never would.

The kitchen was much more organized, which was a feat in itself. How he has managed to fit the amount of cookware and utensils he had into such a small space was beyond him. It was a necessity though, because Miroku Takeuchi had a love of the culinary arts, and cooking came naturally to him.

Now, he opened the cupboard under the sink and took out a tin of expensive cat food. He popped the tab and emptied the tins contents into the paw-shaped food dish by the door. He filled the matching water dish with fresh, cold water, before starting on remedying his own growling stomach. His Baby always came first.

He went to the fridge, removing three eggs, milk, some leftover ham, and a small onion from it, and transporting them over to the counter. As a last thought he grated a small amount of old cheddar cheese into a bowl, before cracking the eggs into it. He only needed one hand to crack an egg, it was a technique he'd perfected years ago. Then he chopped the ham and onion into bite-sized pieces, adding everything to the bowl, plus a little milk and spices. He whisked it all together and poured it into his best non-stick frying pan.  
After his omelet was finished frying, he was almost salivating with hunger. He grabbed his plate and fork, and sat in his chair. He lifted his newest read- Saiga's new book, which he'd purchased the moment after Sango had handed it to him- from next to the lamp, and started to eat and read all at once. He took his time, knowing that the moment he was one he would have work to do.

He had a meeting with his agent today. What was worse was that it was Saturday.

"She ignores me during the work week, but once the weekend rolls around she wants to talk," Miroku grumbled to himself, rinsing his dishes under the warm water of the kitchen sink. He stopped to scratch his Baby behind the ear for a second before pulling on his shoes and a leather jacket, and leaving.

The coffee shop where he always met Erii Fujiwara was closer to her area of the city than to his. It was how she set it up, and what Erii Fujiwara says goes, almost without discussion. She was a hard-ass, but was the best damn agent he could've hoped for. The only problem was that she was more no-nonsense than Sango was.

When he walked in the door, she was seated with her back to him. As he'd come to expect: black pumps, black hose, a black skirt and a white top covered her skin. The only splash of color on her was the thin headband on the top of her head. Each time that he saw her it was a different shade of a different color. Today it was a bright canary yellow. As he got closer, he noticed that she was holding a steaming cup of coffee - black- and spinning a magnificent diamond ring on her thin finger.

"So, you finally got the ring!" Miroku said, hugging his dear friend tightly. "Congratulations hon!" Erii hugged him back with a smile on her face. She had been dating this Hojo Ueda since back before Miroku had met her eight years ago. He was a nutritionist whose family ran an herbal remedy shop. Miroku had met him a few times, and he had seemed nice enough, if not a little oblivious.

"Yeah. He proposed last night!" Miroku smiled at the pure delight in her eyes and the humongous smile on her face, and took a seat across from her.

"Well it took him long enough," Miroku said, gesturing with his hand for one of the cafe employees to head his way. "If I were him, I would have made you mine long ago. None of this waiting funny business." Erii laughed.

"I'm just glad that it's finally happened," she replied. "Besides, you don't have anyone to make wait anyways. It's about time that you go out and find her, and none of this Shima shit. I'm serious!"

"Well, I've been trying, but the last time I checked, you were the one who gave me this bad boy appearance. It'd make me almost irresistible, you said. Now I can't get anyone to take me seriously, never mind in a relationship." Just then, the girl he'd beckoned to walked over. "I'd like an extra-large, no cream, no sugar please." The girls nodded and headed off to place his order beyond the counter.

"Lazy ass. Why can't you just get up and order at the counter like everyone else? Also, don't try to blame this all on me. You and Shima are to blame too. She's flaunting around, waving your money and riling up the other wives and divorcees. Careful, she may be up to something."

"I'll keep that in mind." The girl who had taken his order so casually walked over and placed his drink in front of him. Miroku smiled at her and placed more than enough money in her hand. "Keep the change," he said with a wink. Her cheeks turned pink and she smiled just for him before returning to work.

"Not a playboy, my ass."

"Hey, I'm just acting the part you wrote out for me." He sipped the hot liquid in his mug. "So, when's the wedding?'

"Next winter, almost a year from now."

"I can't wait. I'll finally get to see you in something that will show off that pretty figure of yours.'

"Pervert."


	12. Insanity

The next Tuesday was a dreary blustery day. Miroku had brought an umbrella, anticipating rain, but it had been turned inside out by the wind.

"That's the last time that I buy a five dollar umbrella," Miroku complained to InuYasha. "It was practically trash to begin with."

"If you thought it would be miserable and rainy, then why didn't you just drive today?" InuYasha asked.

"That's not the point!" Miroku leaned against the shop counter. "Oh, by the way, can I ask you something?"

"Sure. I won't guarantee that I'll have an answer for you, though." Miroku nodded.

"There was this guy here last week. A demon." The two met each others eyes. Miroku went on to explain the stranger, and watched for any sign of recognition on the hanyou's face, seeing none. "Anyways, he seemed to be really interested in me and I have no clue why."

"Maybe he wanted to kill you." InuYasha offered, alarming Miroku.

"But I didn't do anything to him!"

"Maybe he felt that you were insulting him in some way," Shippo suggested, popping out of nowhere like he was known to do. "Some demons can be a bit touchy."

That was no good. How could he have pissed off some freakishly strong demon whom he'd never met before. His stomach flipped uncomfortably.

"What do I do?"

"Pray that he doesn't decide that you are worth getting blood on his clothes."

"Gee, thanks," Miroku said dryly. He sighed. "Well, I'm going to go visit with Sango. If super-demon shows up, you know where to find me." Without waiting for a reply, he headed deeper into the shop.

When he walked into the hidden library, Sango didn't look up. Miroku frowned. Apparently, he had really messed up when he had hugged her last week. He sat in his chair and pulled out the book that InuYasha had chosen for him from atop the nearest shelf. He had just opened the book, and was almost finished readingthe first paragraph, when Sango spoke.

"Tell me something. Are you really related to monks?" She inquired. That one threw him for a loop. It was a question that had been posed to him often, but not one that he had expected from Sango.

"What brought this about?" He wondered. She looked up and shrugged.

"Some girls in my class were talking about you, and they said so, but I don't really trust the media, therefore I wanted to ask you myself."

"Actually, I am. My family is actually so proud of it that all newborn boys get named after one ancestor monk or another. I have an uncle Miatsu."

"That's neat. I read that, on the weekend that my mother found out that she was pregnant with me, they were supposed to go scuba diving. They love to go diving, but my mother cancelled for my well being. Then the next day, my father went out and bought my mother a piece of coral as a present. So they decided to name me Sango."

"That's really sweet," Miroku stated. It was. Still, he wondered if he had heard her right. "Did you say read?" Sango nodded and closed her eyes.

"My parents died when I was very young, but it just so happens that my mother was in the habit of writing letters. Everything that I know about them comes from those letters." She smiled serenely and he could tell that she was genuinely grateful for the letters. His heart went out to her. "She wrote them addressed to me, and then when she became pregnant with Kohaku, she started writing to 'her darlings'."

"What kinds of things did she write about?" Miroku didn't want to pry, and hoped that Sango wouldn't take the questions as such. Her eyes opened and fixed on him.

"Anything and everything. How she was feeling that day, the weather, even special secrets between us." After a moment of speculative silence, she continued. "In one letter she wrote how I got my name, in another she wrote us that Kohaku's name isn't really Kohaku." Miroku blinked. That was unexpected.

"Really?"

"Truly?"

"If it isn't Kohaku, then what is his name?" He asked.

"Hakudoshi was Kohaku's birth name, but apparently, as a two year old I didn't liek that name. I'd always call him Kaku in my toddler speak. My parents thought that it was adorable, and he's been Kohaku ever since. He even got his name legally changed when he turned eighteen." She laughed and Miroku laughed along with her. Then something hit him.

'She's spoken of her father and mother before, as if they were still alive,' he pondered to himself. 'If they died, then that must mean that she and Kohaku were adopted. Could that possibly have been what InuYasha had meant? Is he her foster father?' Miroku shook his head slowly. InuYasha treated Sango as more of a sister than anything. Besides, InuYasha had never even hinted at having a significant other.

"Earth to Miroku." He cast a sidelong glance at his friend.

"Pardon?"

"I asked how your weekend was," she told him.

"It was good. My agent's boyfriend of nine years proposed to her."

"That's wonderful for her! Wait- your agent is a woman? I could have sworn that you've refered to her as he before."

"I do that sometimes, but no. She's all woman. Actually, I think that you'd like her," he mused. "You have similar tastes."

"Oh yeah?"

"Definitely." He was about to say 'you both love me,' but a thought popped into his head. "Hey, I have a question for you." He took the small head tilt he recieved as a sign to continue. Turning to face her completely, he said, "last Thursday there was this demon here. Tall, handsome, imposing. He was wearing a suit." He already could see that she knew whom he was speaking of. "Who is he?"

"Why do you ask?" Her voice was cautious, making him all the more anxious.

"Well, he used his youki to keep me from moving, he practically stared into my soul, and I want to know why. InuYasha and Shippo already gave me their opinions." Miroku remembered something. "Plus, his youki is all over you. Not to mention the books in this room!" Sango looked like sh was debating on telling him something, but she burst out laughing instead. If he didn't love her laugh so much, it may have been offensive. "What's funny?"

"Those guys seem to have scared you pretty well. I don't think that I could do any better." Then it sunk in. They had been messing with him.

'Those assholes,' He thought, and almost said, but noticed that Sango wasn't finished speaking.

"That demon is someone whom is worthy of utmost respect. He has done many things for this world." She paused. "He's my father, and also the whom you love so much." If his jaw could've dropped any farther it would have gone through the floor.

"You're joking."

"Nope, dead serious."

"So, when you said you were familiar with a few authors, this was what you meant?" Sango laughed again, clearly enjoying his reaction.

"More or less. I also know a few of his friends from the author profession."

"I can't believe this." He couldn't. Sango shrugged and pulled a wallet out from her bag. She flipped it open, and there it was. Her proof.

It was a picture. Sango, Kohaku, InuYasha and Shippo were all in it, but behind them stood the stranger- Saiga apparently- looking unimpressed. Next to him stood a woman in a yellow sundress with orange flowers printed on it. She held his hand in her left, and had her right arm around Sango and Kohaku. Next to InuYasha was an older woman. She had grey hair with one streak of white through it which looked unnatural. The only thing that placed her with this group at all were her lighter shade of eyes, flecked with gold, and the smile on InuYasha's face as he looked at her.

"You weren't kidding. So he's really Saiga... Who's that?" He pointed at the older woman next to the hanyou.

"Oh, that's Chika." That was all the response he got. He thought of the look on InuYasha's face when he had inquired about Saiga.

"InuYasha said that he didn't know the demon, though I should have seen the resemblance. They're obviously related."

"His real name is Sesshomaru, and he and InuYasha are half-brothers. So, InuYasha is practically my uncle, though he's more like a much older brother."

"The thing that gets me is that, when he said he didn't know who I was talking about, he looked so honestly oblivious." Sango smiled in amusement.

"InuYasha told me once that when you're centuries old, a poker-face comes easy." She offered. It made sense. Then everything sunk in.

He had met the man who's books had been his shelter and release, in the desert of his childhood. The man who wrote characters, like Kaori Watase, who- though not real- had been his first love, had looked him in the eye. The man who's daughter he was currently trying to win the affection of. All were one and the same, and he was a demon. A formidable one at that. InuYasha must have told him his intentions.

"Wow, that's a lot to take in." He paused. "One things for sure. I think that if I got called on trial right not, I could- without guilty conscience- plead insanity. I wish I had known though. Then I could have asked him some questions." Then he though to himself, 'If he would let me speak, that is.'

"You're in luck then. He'll be back on Thursday," Sango said, as if it were nothing. Then again, she had been living with him for years. "He's going to be helping me with my Demon Studies essay, so you won't be permitted in this room. He always locks everyone out when he helps me, even Totosai. He will be leaving around three. I'm sure he'd talk to you."

"Do you really think so?" Excitement fluttered in Miroku's chest, not that he was likely to admit it. Sango looked thoughtful.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I'll let him know about it tonight, when I get home."

"You'd do that for me? I could kiss you, Sango."

"Well don't."


End file.
